


Sweater Weather

by ktamatsukami



Category: Naruto
Genre: ...unless..., Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, And it might be the best decision she's ever made, Anxiety Disorder, Cross-Generational Bonds, Cross-Generational Friendship, Drunken Shenanigans, Enemy Lovers, F/M, Family Fluff, First Meetings, Hashirama is really enjoying his divorce honeymoon, Izuna just wants his brother to be happy and healthy but he doesn't cooperate, Kakashi wants to chill out after getting his degree, M/M, Madara is a mentally unstable yet truly loving adoptive dad, Madara is an anxious workaholic bachelor in denial, Obito gets mad every time someone implies he might not be totally straight, References to Depression, Rin knows Kakashi won't love her back but she still wants to be with him, Summer Romance, Teenage Drama, Tobirama is not enjoying Hashirama's divorce honeymoon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-15
Updated: 2020-03-15
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:34:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23153320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ktamatsukami/pseuds/ktamatsukami
Summary: Yes, my tags are just blatant spoilers and I suck. And yes, there's a vague possibility this whole plot randomly popped up from listening to The Neighbourhood while very groggy.
Relationships: Hatake Kakashi/Uchiha Obito, Nohara Rin/Uchiha Obito, Senju Hashirama/Uchiha Madara, Senju Tobirama/Uchiha Izuna
Comments: 3
Kudos: 44





	Sweater Weather

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, my tags are just blatant spoilers and I suck. And yes, there's a vague possibility this whole plot randomly popped up from listening to The Neighbourhood while very groggy.

Waking up to the sound of waves, almost unpleasant humidity and salty air was sort of a bittersweet starting point on Uchiha Madara’s daily routine. If not for the constant sandy breeze - which could be also rather bothersome, specially for eye safety -, the warmth would be possibly unbearable. Not that the huge, unruly jet-black mane atop his head was of any help at all. 

He couldn’t really remember the last time he indulged into something even slightly similar to a vacation. Or to a full night of sleep. The rather worrisome bags under his eyes and sallowish complexion, with only far memories of a proper tan, did spoke for themselves. 

He wasn’t unsightly, really. Not even close to that. Few would actually say he was near his forties. He just looked... plain weary. Worn out. As if he’s given up on any kind of adequate selfcare. Some would say his aspect was overall hostile, but a closer look hardly disguised his nearly urgent need of some radical lifestyle rearrangements. It could even somewhat evoke pity - which he fucking hated, by the way. 

Although having been pushed and nigh blatantly blackmailed into accepting something that involved a spark of self-delight, he couldn’t deny that view was quite impressive. Nothing in nature was capable of emulating the shades of blues and greens the sea so readily flaunted. He had almost forgotten what it looked like, after all those years. Naturally, the thin, roasted-white sand annoyingly getting into the most unseemly places didn’t provide him so much joy.

“Izuna, sunscreen time. You’ve been out in this deadly UV laser shit of a sun for far too long.”

“Aniki, how old do you think I am? Do you plan on changing my diapers as well?”

“Oh, god blame me for trying to be an attentive older brother. Whatever then. Just don’t come at me crying over your second degree burns at the end of the day.”

“I was fucking _seven_ when that happened. Besides, have you even been taking any looks at a mirror lately? One could easily expect you to just pass out at any moment.”

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t you wanna ride some more waves before sun goes down?”, he listlessly dismissed the subject while lighting up what was possibly his tenth or eleventh cigarette of the day - oh, _right_ . As if sleep deprivation, malnutrition, lack of any kind of healthy entertainment and basically never doing anything beyond the bare minimum to survive and keep up to his work weren’t enough, he smoked. _A lot_ . 

Izuna rolled his eyes and held his claret surfboard towards the rowdy sea. It was plainly useless to prolong the discussion.

Not even bothering to let a single ray of sun reach his unhealthily pale skin, Madara closed his eyes under the parasol and dreamed of a desk full of fiercely murderous business documentation. 

  
  


“What the fuck”, he drowsily grunted when a cold gush abruptly pulled him out of the possibly most boring nightmare ever, “and you still dare to say you’re not fucking seven”. The long, dark strands of hair which framed the recently suntanned face of Madara’s younger brother tickled his nose while he got a completely unnecessary bucket of water to his face. 

“Wake up, sleeping beauty”, Izuna smirked, “it’s past seven, the sun is almost gone and I’m hungry as hell.”

“Oh, news”, the older Uchiha stretched on his beach chair, “get us a spot at that fancy looking diner right by the cottage while I pick up our stuff. Good occasion for you to return the cash you owe me.”

“Because fuck brotherly love, of course. All about bucks.”

“Brotherly bankruptcy, you mean.”

“You’re gonna die dry with the plump bank account.”

“Better than dying with a scrawny one. Go get us some fucking food already.”

The raven watched the lean figure going smaller into distance when the recall of the person he didn’t have a clue of since morning suddenly hit his mind. _If that damn rascal got into any trouble today I’ll fucking thump that brassy face till he can’t tell the difference between his head and his ass_ , he told himself.

Before he could go on further internal ranting about the suspicious vanishing of a certain someone, a deep yet cheerful voice contrasted with the high-pitched whistle of the late afternoon coastal wind. 

“...hey brother, I’m the first-born here, give me a vote of confidence for once! Hahaha!”  _Noisy_ , the Uchiha immediately thought before turning to check on the origin of the whole fuss. 

_Oh_.

A tall, sun-kissed, strong-built man with long silky chestnut hair and a partially bare brawny chest popped up about 3 metres away from where Madara sluggishly took some extra time before packing up his and Izuna’s stuff. _Noisy, but a quite pleasant sight_ .

Madara didn’t expect their eyes to meet while the other man seemed so entertained by the conversation he was having on his mobile phone. Yet, they did. It barely took more than five seconds, but still felt rather... _intense_ . Or maybe - probably - it was just his imagination. He briefly shook his head and got ready to meet his brother, unconsciously taking a second peek at the figure he had just came across to.  _Nice_ , his inconvenient mind insisted. 

  
  
  
  


Izuna carefully left his surfboard at the stowage tent outside the beautifully decorated diner. The yellowish lights illuminating the crude dark wooden walls and the small palm trees framing the entrance arch, which was made of three wide tree trunks displayed in a door shape, built a quite cozy yet elegant atmosphere. 

The first sound his ears laid on when he entered the place was a low-pitched male voice at the counter just by the restaurant’s entrance. “Yes, I’m quite sure I’ve booked a table for two, could you please check on that?” _Who the hell books this sort of thing_ , he wondered. _Probably trying to impress his girlfriend or something_ . He took a sight of the man’s back, noticing his loose turquoise boardshort and lycra in a slightly darker tone - dark enough to contrast with his nigh eerily clear skin and almost white, spiky short hair. Izuna couldn’t avoid thinking how on earth that clearly too pale person managed to put up with even ten minutes of that slaying sunlight that seemed to ruthlessly fry every being who dared to step under its fiery realm. 

“Can you please tell me your name again, sir?”, a polite shrill female voice requested, getting the man to impatiently sigh, “Senju Tobirama. S-E-N-J-U”, he spelt. _Senju_ . Apparently they couldn’t get rid of them even while just trying to chill out. Well, whatever. Not a thought worth lingering on. 

The slender, nimble Uchiha quickly dodged the small clusters of annoyingly cheerful people by the middle of the saloon and spotted a lone table a little too close to the restroom. He took a deep breath while sitting in his not really usual sloppy manner - riding waves for five straight hours is quite wearing, though - and eased up for a couple of minutes, just before a figure quietly approached.  _Of course it had to be the albino Senju in the blue surfwear_ , he huffed. 

Izuna took a discrete peek at the man who was sitting at the neighbouring table. The Senju was about his age and fairly good-looking - even though, if not for his austere semblant, his reddish eyes could easily be somewhat spooky. 

An uncomfortable and dull silence went through for some minutes while they sat by themselves in the back of that place and blankly stared at the walls. However, it didn’t take long until a joyful, amiable - and a bit too fussy - energy flourished around. 

“Hey, brother! Sorry I took so long, Kawarama called me while I was walking by the beach and well, you know how the chatter goes on, right?” A tall, olive-skinned, long-haired brunette cheerfully gestured to the man next to Izuna, who couldn’t avoid rolling his eyes.  _Great, another Senju_ , he huffed again, _and this time a loud one_ . 

He proceeded, then, rabbiting on some topic Izuna didn’t bother paying attention to. The younger Uchiha was already spacing out when the man’s voice quietened down and a silhouette with a distinctive sable mane came closer in lithe, deft steps. 

“You left your stuff strewn all over the place. Now you get by the sand clods in your bag.” The raven crossed his arms and sighed, his usual sullen face open-and-shut, grubby beach bag dropped any old how on the floor. 

Izuna didn’t have a clue on why everyone had awkwardly stopped talking all of a sudden. And it certainly didn’t help when he realized his brother was exchanging glances with the man at the next table.

“So”, he started, “the sun didn’t get a glimpse of you today even though you just basked on that chair the whole afternoon.”

“Have you ordered any goddamn food yet or were you just loafing around rambling on how you’d pester me this time?”

Izuna couldn’t hold a sigh of relief when his brother took the bait. All good things must come to an end, however. And that was a really quick one. 

“Your... brother?”, their table-neighbour guessed, going on when no objections were raised, “Is right. You should try getting a sunbath sometime! You can tell something is off when your complexion gets almost as pale as Tobirama’s.” He giggled, cheeky, while his brother pulled a(n even) long(er) face. _Oh, poor guy. Sitting there all upbeat, naively relying on my brother’s social skills._

“Izuna is the summertime muse here. I would most likely boil up to death.” 

The younger Uchiha didn’t retort. Watching his brother engaging in a witty conversation with a stranger wasn’t a show he usually had a chance of enjoying. Once in a blue moon, as a matter of fact. 

“You do seem to be the gloomy kind. I’m Senju Hashirama, by the way.”

“Uchiha Madara.”

“Yeah, that huge black mop of yours is pretty obvious.”

“So is that lame style of yours.”

_ Oh, well. _

  
  


Madara missed at what point joining tables sounded like a good idea. When the one coming up with it was... well, quite a hunk, it got a little hard to say no - even knowing the man was a member of the Senju family. And it wasn’t being unpleasant at all.

A scent of wildflowers, warm summer nights and early spring petrichor reached the older Uchiha as the so-called Hashirama tied his umber hair in a high ponytail. Terms such as ‘tempting’, ‘hot’ and even a baffled ‘damn’ crossed Madara’s mind a couple of times. Which was already too often - he just couldn’t afford getting carried away by some testosterone-driven whim. He didn’t have the time, energy nor the emotional stability required to deal with another human being. Oh, those unwelcome reminders of the fact he was still a grown-up man with his own needs. Especially when it came to some tall and appealing beefcake in a somewhat revealing apparel - who, moreover, didn’t seem to mind some subtle ‘accidental’ elbow and hand bumps once in a while. 

The older Uchiha aloofly checked his mobile after some chattering and gorging on a variety of extravagant seafood. “Izuna, we’ve got eight missed calls and not so happy text messages over a certain locked cottage door.”

“Like I’m his personal locksmith. Tell him to get over it.” 

“He doesn’t even take the trouble to tell us where the fuck he’s going and then pops up ten hours later with this shitty attitude.” Madara hid his face on his palms and impatiently exhaled. “How I miss his childhood days. Teenagers are insufferable.”

“Is he your son, Madara?”, Hashirama cautiously asked.

“You can say so.” _Can I_?  “He’s nineteen and wearing my patience thinner than a fucking hair strand.”

“I hope your wife is a little more stoic.” The raven could feel Izuna’s mischievous look over the inquiring tone of that sentence and the obvious emphasis on the word _wife_ . 

“Is anyone really like that?” _Old one. Try again._

“Tobirama pretends to be, but he’s just a frowny little sky scrap.”

“Shut up!” Izuna let out a chuckle over the younger Senju’s protest.

“You’re such a grouch. It’s hard to believe you two are really related.” Hashirama’s resonant guffaw drew smiles from the others - except for Tobirama, of course. 

“But hey Madara”, the brunette went on, still chortling a little, “you came here with your brother and your son, but what about your wif-”. Incoming call.

“Sorry, I’ll have to take this”, Madara politely said just a second before it seemed he was about to go full berserk. “What did you just say, fucking little brat?! Oh, really? Then you’d better run the hell away for good. If I get a single glimpse of you, bet the dentist will be doing his fucking damnedest. And y-”, he stared at the mobile screen in utter disbelief, “he hung up on me. Not a single spark of love for his own life.” 

“Uh, aniki”, Izuna hesitated, “I think we should go now. It’s already late, our hair is terrible and I’m worn out. And it’s a plus if we get the chance to punch the brass neck right out of Obito.” 

They left in a hurry after Madara angrily gave some banknotes to the Senju brothers - it’s not like he didn’t expect to be paying, after all - while Izuna apologized for their sudden departure. Some matters had to be dealt with right away. Furthermore, it would be a nuisance if the older Uchiha - who was already in a bad temper - noticed the phone number his dearest sibling scribbled on the table napkin and stealthily handed to their newest acquaintance. Izuna wouldn’t screw up an opportunity for his stiff, fed up and stressed out mess of a brother to get some after so long.


End file.
